The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly Part 99

"I first intend to have a little dinner," said she; "but I have ordered it in the small dining-room; and you are perfectly welcome, any or all of you, to keep me company, if you like."

To follow the conversation that ensued would be little more than again to go over a story which we feel has been already impressed with tiresome reiteration on the reader. Whatever had failed in Sedley's narrative, Julia's ready wit and quick intelligence had supplied by conjecture, and they talked on till late into the night, bright gleams of future projects shooting like meteors across the placid heaven of their enjoyment, and making all bright around them.

Before they parted it was arranged that each should take his separate share of the inquiry; for there were registries to be searched, dates confirmed in several places; and while L'Estrange was to set out for Louvain, and Jack for Savoy, Sedley himself took charge of the weightier question to discover St. Michel, and prove the burial of G.o.dfrey Bramleigh.

CHAPTER LXVII. A WAYFARER

When the time came for the several members of the family at the villa to set out on the search after evidence, Jack, whose reluctance to leave home--he called it "home"--increased with every day, induced Cutbill to go in his stead, a change which even Mr. Sedley himself was forced to admit was not detrimental to the public service.

Cutbill's mission was to Aix, in Savoy, to see and confer with Marie Pracontal, the first wife of Balda.s.sare. He arrived in the nick of time; for only on that same morning had Balda.s.sare himself entered the town, in his galley-slave uniform, to claim his wife and ask recognition amongst his fellow-townsmen. The house where she lived was besieged by a crowd, all more or less eager in a.s.serting the woman's cause, and denouncing the pretensions of a fellow covered with crimes, and p.r.o.nounced dead to all civil rights. Amid execrations and insults, with threats of even worse, Balda.s.sare stood on a chair in the street, in the act of addressing the mult.i.tude, as Cutbill drew nigh. The imperturbable self-possession, the cool courage of the man--who dared to brave public opinion in this fashion, and demand a hearing for what in reality was nothing but a deliberate insult to the people around him whose lives he knew, and whose various social derelictions he was all familiar with--was positively astounding. "I have often thought of you, good people," said he, "while at the galleys; and I made a vow to myself that the first act of my escape, if ever I should escape, should be to visit this place and thank you for every great lesson I have learned in life.

It was here, in this place, I committed my first theft. It was yonder in that church I first essayed sacrilege. It was you, amiable and gentle people, who gave me four a.s.sociates who betrayed each other, and who died on the drop or by the guillotine, with the courage worthy of Aix; and it was from you I received that pearl of wives who is now married to a third husband, and denies the decent rights of hospitality to her first."

This outrage was now unbearable; a rush was made at him, and he fell amongst the crowd, who had torn him limb from limb but for the intervention of the police, who were driven to defend him with fixed bayonets.' "A warm reception, I must say," cried the fellow, as they led him away, bleeding and bruised, to the jail.

It was not a difficult task for Cutbill to obtain from Marie Pracontal the details he sought for. Smarting under the insults and scandal she had been exposed to on the day before, she revealed everything, and signed in due form a _proces verbal_ drawn up by a notary of the place, of her marriage with Balda.s.sare, the birth of her son Anatole with the dates of his birth and baptism, and gave up, besides, some letters which he had written while at the naval school of Genoa. What became of him afterwards she knew not, nor, indeed, seemed to care. The cruelties of the father had poisoned her mind against the son, and she showed no interest in his fate, and wished not to hear of him.

Cutbill left Aix on the third day, and was slowly strolling up the Mont Cenis pa.s.s in front of his horses, when he overtook the very galley-slave he had seen addressing the crowd at Aix. "I thought they had sent you over the frontier into France, my friend," said Cutbill, accosting him like an old acquaintance.

"So they did; but I gave them the slip at Culoz, and doubled back.

I have business at Rome, and could n't endure that roundabout way by Ma.r.s.eilles."

"Will you smoke? May I offer you a cigar?"

"My best thanks," said he, touching his cap politely. "They smashed my pipe, those good people down there. Like all villagers, they resent free speech, but they 'd have learned something had they listened to me."

"Perhaps your frankness was excessive."

"Ha! you were there, then? Well, it was what Diderot calls self-sacrificing sincerity; but all men who travel much and mix with varied cla.s.ses of mankind, fall into this habit. In becoming cosmopolitan you lose in politeness."

"Signor Balda.s.sare, your conversation interests me much. Will you accept a seat in my carriage over the mountain, and give me the benefit of your society?"

"It is I that am honored, sir," said he, removing his cap, and bowing low. "There is nothing so distinctively well bred as the courtesy of a man in _your_ condition to one in _mine_."

"But you are no stranger to me."

"Indeed! I remarked you called me by my name; but I'm not aware that you know more of me."

"I can afford to rival your own candor, and confess I know a great deal about you."

"Then you have read a very checkered page, sir. What an admirable cigar.

You import these, I'd wager?"

"No, but it comes to the same. I buy them in bond, and pay the duty."

"Yours is the only country to live in, sir. It has been the dream of my life to pa.s.s my last days in England."

"Why not do so? I can't imagine that Aix will prefer any strong claims in preference."

"No, I don't care for Aix, though it is pretty, and I have pa.s.sed some days of happy tranquillity on that little Lac de Bourges; but to return: to what fortunate circ.u.mstance am I indebted for the knowledge you possess of my biography?"

"You have been a very interesting subject to me for some time back.

First of all, I ought to say that I enjoy the pleasure of your son's acquaintance."

"A charming young man, I am told," said he, puffing out a long column of smoke.

"And without flattery, I repeat it,--a charming young man, good-looking, accomplished, high-spirited and brave."

"You delight me, sir. What a misfortune for the poor fellow that his antecedents have not been more favorable; but you see, Mr.------"

"Cutbill is my name."

"Mr. Cutbill, you see that I have not only had a great many irons in the fire through life, but occasionally it has happened to me that I took hold of them by the hot ends."

"And burned your fingers?"

"And burned my fingers."

They walked on some steps in silence, when Balda.s.sare said,--

"Where, may I ask, did you last see my son?"

"I saw him last in Ireland, about four months ago. We travelled over together from England, and I visited a place called Castello, in his company,--the seat of the Bramleigh family."

"Then you know his object in having gone there? You know who he is, what he represents, what he claims?"

"I know the whole story by heart."

"Will you favor me with your version of it?"

"With pleasure; but here is the carriage. Let us get in, for the narrative is somewhat long and complicated."

"Before you begin, sir, one question: where is my son now? is he at Rome?"

"He is; he arrived there on Tuesday last."

"That is enough,--excuse my interrupting,--I am now at your orders."

The reader will readily excuse me if I do not follow Mr. Cutbill in his story, which he told at full length, and with what showed a perfect knowledge of all the circ.u.mstances. It is true he was so far disingenuous that he did not confess the claim had ever created alarm to the minds of the Bramleighs. There were certain difficulties, he admitted, and no small expense incurred in obtaining information abroad, and proving, as it was distinctly proved, that no issue of Montague Bramleigh had survived, and that the pretensions of Pracontal were totally groundless.

"And your visit to Savoy was on this very business?" asked Balda.s.sare.

"You are right; a small detail was wanting which I was able to supply."

"And how does Anatole bear the discovery?"

"He has not heard of it; he is at Rome, paying court to an English lady of rank to whom he hopes to be married."